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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, July 10, 1914, NOON EDITION, Image 19',
meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed',
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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Its bonds as a new strength infused
her pulses "and nerves.
"Oh, papa, mamma!" she cried in
a wild fervor of excited delight, as al
most breathless with joy and surprise
she completed a whole sentence on
on the sheet of paper before her.
Her parents came rushing anxious
ly from the house at the unusual cry.
"What is it are you ill, Flora?"
quavered her mother.
"Oh, no!" dissented the agitated
little one. "Just think of it I am
getting well, sure, papa! For see
I have written a whole sentence!"
And then little Flora uttered a cry
of direful dismay. A great breath of
wind had come along. It caught up
the loose sheets of paper, it scatter
ed them in every direction high in
the air, over among the sweet bloom
ing lilacs, even to the street, in front
of the grounds, and over the garden
Father and mother worked ardu
ously to collect the scattered sheets.
- Search as they would, however, they
could not find the one upon which
Flora had written.
"And it was the first real sentence
I have written since since I was
sicki" murmured Flora. "Why, think
of it! plain as day and without tiring
my hand at all, I printed out 'Never
"Well, my dear," said her father,
"very soon you will be able to write
whole pages," and then his" heart
overflowed with hope at this indica
tion that the little sufferer was on
the road to recovery.
In a week the episode of the miss
ing sheet of paper was forgotten. Lit
tle Flora, indeed, improved. Day by
day she grew stronger. Always was
she cheerful, happy, with a bright es
sence of sunshine that permeated the
life of the whole village. Many a
burdened heart revived at a sight of
the patient, loving little creature,
who saw only love and helpfulness
as her rare mission of life.
Click! the man who sat on the
-other side-of- that fateful garden wall
had been too absorbed in his misery
to heed the sounds about him. He
got ready the deadly weapon. Then"
it dropped suddenly from his nerve
less fingers. There had come float
ing down like a dove of peace, like a.
heavenly messenger, a sheet of paper.
It fell directly in his lap. With awed,
staring eyes Robert Dale read thf
rude, scrawling words:
"Never say die!"
A quick revulsion of feeling passeg
over him. Whence had the message
come. No one was in sight What
but Providence could have directed
this strange occurrence at the most
critical moment of his life! He burst
into tears, he dropped to his knees
and a new strength and impulse
came into his life.
Two years later-little Flora and her
parents attended a"" meeting at the
town hall of the village. It had been
announced some time previous that
Robert' Dale, a wealthy city mer
chant, had purchased the grounds
beyond the garden wall. A meeting
had been called where he was to pub
licly dopate the land and $50,000 to
build an orphan asylum.
Mr. Dale arose and made the
formal tender of his, beneficence to
the town'. Then his face grew grave
and "solemn, as he stated that he
wished to tell why he had been im
pelled to his philanthropic action. He
recited his experience the day 'when
that strange message had come to
him. He told how, banishing his
cowardly fears, he had gone back to
the city nerved to combat his busi
ness difficulties and had turned the
tide of disaster to one of prosperity.
Then he took from a treasured
corner in his pocketbook a folded
piece of paper and passed it around
ampng the audience, the precious
sheet of paper bearing the words:
"Never say die!"
The little scrap df paper passed
among two tows of seats. As it came
to Mr. Easton little Flora uttered a.
"Oh, papa, it's my writing. Don't